


Christmas Wish

by sleepingseeker



Series: 2k14 LeonardoxKarai [2]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Holidays, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingseeker/pseuds/sleepingseeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little side story slightly ahead of where we’re at in Domino. Summary: Leo surprises Karai with something to celebrate their friendship. Karai surprises Leo with something that means she wants more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Wish

**Author's Note:**

> A little Christmas gift written just now for all my fellow LeoxKarai shipmates. May all your dreams come true in the new year!

It wasn’t snow, but sleet. Gray and sharp, mottling her jacket and chilling her through the layers of clothing; her breath in little puffs, hard in her mouth, stinging her nose with every inhale. She stood in this downpour, shivering. Miserable. The strands of hope that held her in place, tentative and taunt, began to snap and as she turned, her brows knit in consternation and her teeth chattered when not gritted together in frustration.

He had said he could get away. Just to see her. Just for a quick visit. That was what he’d told her. And here she was, standing in the rain for a man.

Ever since she’d met with him, Leonardo had turned her life inside out and upside down. Challenging her carefully built walls; testing her carefully crafted convictions. Throwing her life into turmoil. Giving her heart a reason to skip and jump as it had never done for anyone else before. Standing in the rain; waiting for a man.

Karai swore, loudly into the sleet, wiping the moisture from her mouth with a rough gesture. Who the hell was she becoming? Karai wasn’t too sure anymore. This was ridiculous.

“I’m a fool,” she muttered and grasped the doorknob to the roof access shed, moving to pull it open when the softest shift in sounds had her turning.

He stood like a sentinel, watching her there on the parapet of her building’s roof. Sheets of sleet running over his broad shoulders and rippling down the soaking odds and ends that he’d clothed himself in; her thought upon seeing him there, first and foremost, was: he must be freezing. But quickly followed by: That’s what he gets for making me wait.

She said nothing, but pulled the door open and stood aside, cocking her brow to a fine arch. Inviting him in with the tip of her head. He hesitated. A tremor, visible and severe made its way over his fine form. A smirk she could not hide ghosted across her mouth.

“Trust me. It’s warmer inside.”

Still he hesitated. A jolt of irritation nearly had her snap at him to remain outside if he was so unsure. If he trusted her so little, but it was Christmas Eve and she knew their stolen time together was brief. For him, his family waited, wondering, surely where he was, why he wasn’t home. He was risking a lot, just for this hour with her. Nearly as much as she. But for her, the lonely expanse of her suite echoed the empty hollow in her life. The useless servitude to a man who loved her not; a life full of violence for no real purpose. No direction. No salvation. Not until … him.

He was next to her before she saw him move. And with a hand, strange and strong, marred by scars and callouses, but gentle and confident, he swept a strand of wet hair from the side of her face; gazing into her eyes with an intensity that had her for a moment, forgetting what she was going to say next.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. My family … it was hard to get away,” he murmured. And his eyes were regretful and sad.

She blinked and suddenly the wet and the cold, the sleet and the aching loneliness faded away. Chased back by the light in his eyes. Back into the shadows of her heart where all the ugly things moldered and decayed. All the things she hated most of herself. They cowered from him. His presence chased them all away. Back and further back until she was free to be whomever she wanted. To wish and hope and dare to dream that she was worthy to love and be loved.

“You’re late? I hardly noticed,” she said with a mock air of cocky confidence, far from what she actually churned with inside.

If her words stung him, she couldn’t tell. His face remained frustratingly impassive. She couldn’t see his eyes for the shadows; the emotions that worked behind his invisible shields, so readily visible within them, where he could not hide them from her, were out of her sight. He ducked his head and moved past her into the room. She swept inside after him, pulling the door shut against the cold gray night; following on his heels with her heart pounding frantically and her pulse singing in her ears; a song of hope. A melody of love’s burgeoning, spiced by the danger, the forbidden. The rich anticipation of reaching for something she longed for more than anything else in the world.

He half turned on the stairway, eyes worried as he made it clear, “A few minutes, that’s all I can spare, Karai.”

She nodded her understanding and hurried him along, trying and failing not to seem desperate for his company. The tea was cooling in the cups; poured too soon from her nervous anticipation of his visit. It didn’t matter. A few minutes with him. Alone. They’d talk, nothing more. But it was enough. For now. She’d want nothing else. Ever again. Until she needed him again. To see him and touch him, fleetingly with her fingertips, afraid to do more. But wanting to. Afraid to face what this was between them. Ridiculous. Thrilling. Dangerous.

Inside, she handed him a towel after she’d shaken out of her long dark coat. He patted his face and looked around, wary. Nervous. He’d been inside only once before. He fidgeted and she was afraid he’d leave.

“Tea?” she chirped and frowned at the sound of her voice. A hand at her throat, a question in her eyes as they swept to the floor. A chastisement in her mind.  _Fool. Where is your dignity? Stop acting like a girl. You are a full grown woman. A kunoichi._ She cleared her throat violently and shook her head to sweep her damp hair from her shoulders. She raised her chin and eyed him coolly.

He stepped further into the room and again, hesitated. A wave of frustration hit her. She braced a fist on her hip. “Leonardo. If you are so uncomfortable in my home, why don’t you leave,” she bit out and felt relief to vent some of her own discomfort with her snappish tone and cold words. Better.

His face rose and he blinked, looking caught at something. He fidgeted again and from the side pouch hanging from his belt, he produced something small; wrapped neatly in brown paper; a ribbon of blue tied in a bow atop it. Her breath lodged in her throat as her brain processed what was happening as he proffered it to her in a stuttering series of jerks with his hand.

“F-For you, Karai.”

She moved around the sofa and took the gift, numb with surprise. Mute with emotions, too many to sort through and choose just one to adhere to. What was this? Why? Her lids fluttered as she pulled the ribbon and unwrapped the paper. Within the layers sat a carved, wooden hair comb, at the top: a flower. A cherry blossom. She fingered the smooth surface and glanced up at him, questioningly.

“You … made this? For me?”

He gave her a brief nod. “I,” he swallowed loudly, and his voice wavered and dipped in the most endearing manner, “wasn’t sure if you’d ever, uh, wear, um, anything like it, but I thought that maybe … maybe you might … enjoy the design?”

She was nodding before he finished. Then she dropped her arms and looked around the room, at a loss. She shook her head angrily and huffed through her nose.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, suddenly rigid with concern. His body language shifted and immediately the charming boy was now an alert warrior, searching for the source of her unease.

“I have nothing,” she sighed with exasperation and shrugged roughly. “I didn’t expect a gift,” she spat out and fingered the edge of the hair comb; frowning at it as if she were severely angry with it. “I am unable to return the gesture,” she ground out, feeling her face burn. Her voice rose with her irritation. “I wish you didn’t bother.”

He softened at once. Reaching out to her, but not quite touching her, he said softly, “Karai, it’s nothing. I just wanted to … a token of our friendship. That’s all.”

Her eyes raised and she contemplated him in silence. He looked away, then, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “I really can’t stay,” he murmured. Then he looked up, “I should go.”

“Yes. You should,” she snapped, still discomfited by his gesture. Still roiling with something like shame for not thinking that on Christmas Eve, meeting him might mean an exchange of gifts. Feeling ashamed that she hadn’t considered, that he, like the rest of most of the city would even celebrate this holiday or any holiday. Because of what he was. But mostly, because she had nothing to return the thoughtful and sweet offer he’d made in the name of their friendship. Something she’d grown to appreciate and, actually despite herself, cherish.

He blinked at that and this time, the hurt was clear in his eyes, the confusion deep. He began to turn to leave; a bemused expression and something like disappointment on his face. But she caught his elbow and made him pause. As he turned his head, she rose up on tip toe. The kiss meant for his cheek brushed his bottom lip. Soft and pliant. Sweeter than she could have guessed.

He froze and gave a tiny gasp before she slipped back and away from him; equally surprised and a little flustered at the kiss. They stared at one another for another second, both speechless, both shocked, and then he bowed deeply, face red and blurted, “Merry Christmas, Karai.” Without another word to her, he hurried from the room. Slipping through the door before she could respond.

Karai stood in place, clutching the hair comb to her thundering heart, her opposite hand at her mouth. Fingertips brushing her lips. Still feeling his own there, warm and soft, inviting, though the meeting was short-lived. She hadn’t meant to kiss him. Not really. No, she didn’t. But the more she denied her intentions, the more she realized that what she was really upset about was that she’d not had the opportunity to kiss him the way she would have wanted to. She stopped, mid-step.

She wanted to. To kiss him. To kiss him properly. Not as some accident, but with purpose and full intent. Intent on what, exactly? Her heart skipped and jumped. Her throat tightened and her mouth went dry.

_Oh god._

Stunned, she moved to the arched window, shuffling her feet across the hard-wood flooring, and noted the harsh sleet had turned to gentle, but heavy snow. The flakes fell in clumps, softening the edges of the buildings surrounding her apartment; muffling the sounds of traffic; stilling the rambling, manic thoughts stampeding through her mind. She’d focus on what this meant tomorrow. Or the next day. For now, she merely wanted to listen to her heart beat, lulling into a quiet pattern with the snow; to focus on the fading feeling of her lips against his, to memorize and commit it to memory. Until the next time. Her heart stumbled.

_The next time._

Her forehead pressed against the window and she closed her eyes as the chill calmed her racing heart; her breath ghosting against the glass in soft panting exhales. A smile played along the edges of her mouth. 

The next time would be no accident.

“Merry Christmas, Leonardo.”


End file.
